Bad Boy
by Lynxward
Summary: Sometimes humor is the best way to break the tension. (One-shot.)


It wasn't a good night.

The sound of his brother's scream had woken Edward, bathed in a cold sweat. It was only a dream, but it had felt so real. It always did. Alphonse looked on from his spot against the wall, soft red eyelights coming to life as Edward looked up. Edward got to his feet slowly, stalking past his brother without sparing a glance as he enterred the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. His own face greeted him in the mirror, framing perfectly in his own mind how pathetic he was being. Ed's skin was pasty and he could see the sheen of sweat. His long blond hair was stuck to his face and neck in multiple places. Purple bags hung gloomily below his eyes. Edward found himself glaring at his own reflection and at the mirror for projecting his own misery back at him. Ed had only wanted to towel himself off and go back to bed, but now that he was looking in to the mirror, it seemed a far off goal.

He didn't realize he had swung until the coppery scent of blood reached him. Edward's hand burned, and he distantly wondered why he'd punched with his vulnerable flesh instead of the cold steel that made up his right hand. He heard Alphonse clamber to his feet in the bedroom. The alchemist fell to his knees, clutching his wrist in his automail and observing the light lascerations the glass had left with a detatched fascination. Edward could feel glass stuck inside the skin on his knuckles. Blood ran easily down his arm and on to the tiled bathroom floor, gathering in the cracks and flowing like some bloody moat. The boy could feel it begining to soak his knees.

The door behind him swung open and slammed in to the wall like a gunshot. Ed jumped. Alphonse stepped in, turning slightly to make sure he hadn't broken the door knob. Satisfied he hadn't damaged it, the armor turned to the blond on the floor, eyelights settling on his bloody hand. Edward wished his hair wasn't adhered to his neck, wanting it to cover his face. It was childish, and Alphonse had seen him in far worse shape, but something about the self-inflictedness of it all brought a bubble of shame up in Edward's chest. He shouldn't have lashed out. The chunks of mirror in his hand felt hot.

"Why'd you do that, Ed?" Alphonse asked, hollow voice tinged with concern.

"I don't know." Ed responded honestly.

"Did it make you feel any better?"

"No." Ed sounded like he wanted to cry. Alphonse knew he wouldn't.

"Hold out your hand," the armored alchemist urged. Ed complied, turning his face away from Alphonse as the armored boy came in front to look at it.

With surprisingly deft fingers, the armor uncurled Edward's still-fisted fingers and began picking the glass out in stiff silence. He looked around for something to mop the blood up with and decided the hand towel would have to do. Alphonse kept his brother's hand carefully clasped in his own as he turned and took the towel, bringing it gently down on Edward's hand. Ed hissed and Alphonse mentally cringed. Even if it was necessary, Alphonse hated hurting his brother.

"Come on, brother, you need to wash it off." He instructed, helping Edward to his feet and holding his hand over the sink. Broken glass from the mirror pooled in the bottom and created an eerie effect as the bloody water washed over it. Edward whimpered softly, hoping his brother wouldn't hear. Alphonse didn't acknowledge it, so maybe he hadn't. Ed wouldn't bet on it, though. Guilt burned against his insides like hot coals. He shouldn't have been so impulsive, or he should have at least used his automail so that Alphonse wouldn't be in here worrying about him at such an ungodly hour of the night. Of course, waking Alphonse up wasn't an issue, because Alphonse didn't sleep. Still, he didn't like it.

They stepped from the bathroom awkwardly, both trying to get out at the same time. The coppery scent of the blood pooled on the bathroom floor stung Ed's nostrils, and Alphonse didn't want to look at it anymore. The armor stumbled, hooking Edward in one arm, though he cought himself before he slammed them both in to the floor. A tense silence had overcome them in the bathroom. Held an arm's length apart from eachother, they could both feel it even more. Alphonse wanted something to break the wretched silence, anything. His sight came to rest on a newspaper in his reach and an idea formed in his mind.

The armor leaned slightly, grabbing the paper and releasing Edward's shoulders so he could use his other hand and roll it up. Alphonse then turned back to his brother, who hadn't yet moved, and smacked him on the nose with the rolled up paper.

"Bad boy." Alphonse said in a light tone. There was a brief, horrible moment where Al thought Edward was going to be angry at him for it. The blond's lips quirked from their deep frown in to a smile, and he laughed. It started softly, like he wasn't sure what he was doing, and became louder and infectious- Alphonse found himself joining in, and soon they'd both fallen in to sitting positions, laughing loudly. Edward wheezed catching his breath.

"Hey, hey, Al," the blond began, grinning widely. "Bark bark." Ed lunged for the newspaper, automail hand extended. Alphonse quickly pulled it out of his reach and they both fell back in to peals of laughter. Edward sat back down, this time next to his brother with his face resting on the armor's chestplate.

"Isn't that cold?" Alphonse asked. He didn't think he'd be all that comfortable.

"Not really." Edward said softly. Alphonse brushed his hair away from his neck, because it looked terribly uncomfortable. Edward nodded his thanks, leaning in to the armor further. Edward looked exhausted, gold eyes half-lidded. Alphonse gingerly picked his injured hand up off of the ground and on to his own knee for his own piece of mind. The armor put his leather hand on Edward's metal shoulder, and he watched as his brother drifted off to a peaceful sleep. Alphonse couldn't join him, but for once he didn't mind. He felt his brother needed a guardian watching him for now.

Edward didn't have another nightmare that night.

A/N:

Pardon any spelling errors; this was written from my iPod without autocorrect. Just some short brothers angst/fluff.


End file.
